An island story

While we were in Alaska, Prince Edward Island, on a recent excursion, we stopped at a boat launch area on a creek which empties into Percival Bay. The scene was peaceful on a still day, overcast without the glare of the sun. 

Oyster boats were moored in a protected area in the creek and around a bend, Percival Bay and the oyster beds were visible in the distance. 

Nearby a muskrat went about his busy day.

We were just setting up our table and chairs to have a picnic, when a car pulled into the area. It is a common experience in rural PEI when we stop in an area for someone from the area to stop by to check us out. We’ve come to expect it. This man pulled his car in next to ours and greeted us. 

“Hello,” I said. May as well cut to the chase, I thought as I continued. “We’re from Summerside and we like to explore parts of the island we haven’t visited. It’s such a nice day and this is a beautiful area, we’re going to have a picnic here.”

My husband, taking the chairs out of the trunk didn’t hear the next comment. 

The man looked at me and said, “Follow me.” I looked at him questioningly and he repeated the order, “Follow me.”

I went  back and told my husband what the man had said and reluctantly he put the table and chairs back into the car and we followed this stranger.

The man drove up the road a few hundred feet and turned left to a path which led to several properties. Then he turned left again onto a field and stopped at the end of the field about a metre above the creek. The field was lined with trees, the white trunks of birches dominated.

We chatted easily with the man who owned the property on the creek he’d brought us to. There were picnic tables, a swing set, a trailer and shed on the property. The man stays in the trailer in the summer so he can watch his oyster beds since theft can be a problem. He invited us to use the picnic tables, and enjoy our lunch there overlooking the creek.

We shared our family history as he told us about his. He was a kind man, who shared his piece of paradise with us as he spoke of the oyster fishery in Percival Bay and the upcoming halibut fishery in which his son participates. We thanked him for allowing us to picnic on his land and he left us to our lunch.

It was humid that day and the mosquitoes were swarming under the trees. Rather than move a heavy table, we used ours in the open where the slight breeze helped fend off the nippers. Who would think to bring along insect repellent so late in the year?

We had creamed butternut squash soup that day, with cinnamon and ginger and the spices had gone through the soup made the evening before. Delicious. It is one of my favourite cream soups. A chicken sandwich went nicely with the soup and hot tea.

After lunch we explored the area around the creek and enjoyed the setting on a rare weather day in October. The colours of the grasses along the creek and a few remaining autumn leaves made a walk along the creek a real treat. 

The peaceful setting filled the senses! I smiled as I walked.

Recently I spoke with my husband’s aunt who lives in a large Canadian city and I told her about “Follow me.” She laughed at our trusting nature in following a complete stranger to an unknown place. She related how she uses a walker when she goes to the nearby supermarket. One day a young man asked if she needed help in crossing the street and she turned him down. She is always on the alert for danger and doesn’t trust anyone she meets. 

I love island life!

Picnic under the birches

Birch trees with their grey/white trunks make a pretty setting any time of year. However, the shade provided on a hot day is reason enough to have a picnic under birch trees. Besides, the leaves trembling to the breeze create a sound I love to hear and can imagine later as I fall asleep. Birches are a wonder of nature.

We have found several stands of birches on Prince Edward Island and my husband and I visited one recently in Green Park in the northwest part of the island. Of course a picnic was in order and we sat in the birch-provided shade on a hot day with the wind blowing through the branches. Perfect.

While we ate, we watched the fishing grounds in the inlet across from our location. 

There, fishers went about their day at the mussels beds. 

On the far side of the inlet, the floats of the oyster beds were visible on the surface of the water. 

Below the water, cages of oysters hang from each float where they are left to grow until October. Then the floats are sunk and cages fall to the sea floor as ice covers the inlet. The floats are drained in the spring, oysters checked for growth and redistributed to cages and hung from floats for another season. Three years growth produces marketable oysters. 

After lunch we walked along the shoreline where the erosion is obvious. 

The birches and other trees are falling into the sea at an alarming rate. It is sad to see these trees disappear down over the bank as the rich red soil is washed away. 

Camp cabins along one area of the shoreline are available for overnight rental in the privately run part of the park. Some people like these better than a tent for camping. 

Two Greater Yellowlegs walked ahead of us along the beach 

and Tall White Asters almost two meters high lined the trail back to the car. 

Overhead, the Mountain Ash trees were full of berries, known as dogberries in my native Newfoundland.

Time at Green Park is good for the spirit.

 

Uphill both ways

For one of our recent cycling experiences, my husband and I went to the Confederation Trail in the central part of the island, a bit further from home. The trail is on the old rail bed which was left after the track was removed when the trains stopped running in 1989.

The track ran through the center of the island rather than along the coast. At the various stops along the way potatoes from the farms were loaded into boxcars to be shipped to markets through Borden along the South coast of the island.

Though the island is relatively flat, it doesn’t feel like it when you’re cycling. There are long grades with a gentle climb which don’t feel particularly downhill on the way back when you are tired. To this person new to cycling, the trail feels uphill both ways. But fun!

We went further again this time which is our goal with each outing. We passed fields of wheat 

and potatoes ready for harvest, crossed two rivers 

we had never seen before and fields with irrigation equipment.

Around one bend the light through the trees shining on the birch trunks caught us by surprise. We stopped for photos. The green on the path with the strips of red earth, shadows dancing over them and the stately highlighted birches, made us want to stay and watch. However the trail urged us on to see more of its beauty.

Along the way, lots of pale green butterflies lifted into the air as we rode by and in several areas small brown grasshoppers hopped around us as we passed. Even though you ride by quickly, you can notice the little things when there’s just you and the bike in nature.

Every now and then we see birds, such as robins, among the trees or on the trail. By the time you stop, they are gone of course. You can hear them among the trees sometimes and familiar ones like blue jays or chickadees are easily recognizable. I like the idea of the countryside around us filled with the unseen avians though I would like to photograph them. However, the beauty of the trail and the countryside suffice.

On another outing closer to home, we watched as a crew harvested a potato field. Never ones to miss a scavenging opportunity, dozens of gulls staked out places in the newly ploughed earth. They don’t miss much going on in the area.

Question and answer:

Red at http://hiawathahouse.blogspot.com/  who cycled himself until he was eighty, asked if we wear helmets.

My husband and I both wear helmets. Neither of us would dream of cycling without them. We were like children at the store trying on helmets and selecting our favourite colours.

April on Confederation Trail

Shade along the Confederation Trail, Prince Edward Island, prevents the snow from melting on the old rail bed.

 

While the fields beyond the greenbelt are bare, 

 

areas of deep drifted snow on the trail are crusted and crunchy under foot. 

 

Georgie, the golden grand-dog is delighted to be out for a run.

 

The snow slows us down as we walk along, giving us time to observe the wind damage from the past winter. There is a lot of damage as trees and branches have fallen the last several months though none on the trail itself.

 

I am always surprised by the determination and resilience of trees here. Hydro lines run along part of the trail and trees in that area are trimmed periodically to ensure they don't interfere with the lines. Still the trees grow, sending up thin branches into the light. It is hard to hold a good tree back.

 

Some of the fields were seeded last autumn to prevent erosion. 

 

Those left unseeded are muddy this spring. One on the lower side of the trail has a pool of water along the tree line. Before long, the water will soak into the soil as it thaws.

 

The geese have been back since the first of spring and we found one of their haunts that day. A field, about mid way between roads which intersect the trail, away from any houses, was covered with hundreds of geese.

 

Georgie was quiet but something spooked them and off they went, 

 

with much bravado. 

 

The birches stand out against the gray and earthy tones this time of year.

 

They are always a favourite.

 

April on the trail highlights the soil, the trees and animal life, such as the geese, amid the vestiges of winter. 

Dusk on the trail

We watched the sun sink into the ice-covered sea then drove to the upper part of the boardwalk. The lights along the trail lit the way as we walked the boardwalk for the first time at dusk.

Light lingered on the horizon while deeper shades of blue spread over the bay.

 

We were the only ones there. Even the animals had deserted the place, retreating to dens and nests for the evening.

A sliver of moon was shining, accompanied by Venus. 

 

Silence added to the eerie feel of the place as darkness embraced the woods. Soon, the beauty of the setting made us forget all else.

Then it started, howling, but different from that of dogs. A lonely sound, it carried in the still, otherwise silent evening air. Foxes!  They howled as if to say, "We are here." By the time I was ready to record them, they had fallen silent.

Howling sounds on this short clip are similar to those we heard.

https://youtu.be/J6NuhlibHsM

The white trunks of the birches looked to have been created for this place and time.

 

The lights of the city twinkled in the background. Other trees looked black against the blue sky. The intricate branchlets of one tree reached for the sky like tendrils grasping for the ether.

 

The pergola by the marsh was framed by the residual light. From that pergola, 

 

the flash of the lighthouse was obvious as it beamed in rotation.

 

For a few moments in time, all was right with the world.